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2
Ari
Saved by the old hag screaming from her apartment window. Thank God, she always has her panties in a bunch when I come out here to work. That lady’s obsession with seeing a black face on her block just saved me from forgetting my purpose of being out on these streets in the first place. It sure isn’t to find a lover boy to take home. Yet, a few moments ago, I was ready to risk it all for a handsome face, gorgeous smile, and honey-whiskey voice.
I sigh as I make it to the park and sit down on the bench. I pull off my pumps and wiggle my toes, trying to get some blood to flow back through them. This dress is about to hug the breath out of me, and these shoes are the devil’s son. Dressing up like some cheap hooker is not only demeaning, but it’s just plain stressful on my body and feet.
I look around to make sure I evaded the last potential John. Something about this guy screams ‘I’m a good guy who’s just hard up for a roll in the hay.’ I hate to take guys like him down. It’s the pervy ones who have a wife and kids at home that I live to dismantle. The ones who abuse women, I like to take them down even harder.
I never met a criminal that didn’t look like filth in my eyes, but the soft look in this guy’s eyes tells me he wants to protect girls out on this corner. Or, is it just me he wants to protect? My instincts are usually good, but everyone gets rusty at some point, so maybe this train of thought means I’m losing my edge. Why else is he out here to buy prostitutes when there should be an avalanche of panties coming his way? There has to be some reason for it, I surmise.
The park is empty when I arrive, so no one has followed me. I sit back on the bench and rub my temples. Then, the beautiful smile of my best friend, Tracyee, invades my thoughts. In times of doubt, thoughts of her always set me on the right track. She is the reason I do what I do.
Tracyee ran away from home at sixteen and went to New York. No one in her family ever saw her alive after she left town. We told each other everything, and I didn’t even know she was leaving. Her parents were broken, her brother contemplated suicide, and I was lost without my friend. Then, one night, Tracyee’s father called my father to give him an update.
When I saw my father’s light-brown face blanche, drained of his spirit, I knew he was receiving some horrific news on the other end of that call. That news still haunts me to this day.
“Baby girl, sit down, I have to tell you something,” he said once he hung up the phone.
I braced myself for the worst. The look on his face alone was terrifying enough to make me feel the Earth was falling out of orbit.
“What is it, Dad? Why are you looking at me like that? Who were you talking to?” I asked him a barrage of questions, only because his lips weren’t moving fast enough.
He grabbed my hands and held them in his and stared at me.
“Dad, talk to me? What’s going on?” I urged.
“It’s your friend, Tracyee.”
My heart sank. “What about her?”
“They found her body,” he said, his voice cracking.
“Body? What do you mean?” I asked though I knew full well what he was saying to me. My mind just wasn’t ready to process that the girl I’d prayed for her safe return would never make it back to North Carolina.
“She’s gone, baby girl. Dead...” my father’s voice trailed off.
“No! No! Daddy, no! Please don’t say that. Don’t say that she’s dead, please…no!” I lost it after hearing the very thing I had been praying I would never hear. My friend was never coming back.
In my heart, I knew my friend was gone the moment her parents came over to talk to my parents and me, asking about her whereabouts. I just felt an emptiness I couldn’t explain. Tracyee didn’t tell me she was leaving. Maybe because she thought I would rat her out. Still, I figured she would have at least called me once she got settled, even if it was a few weeks later. But it had been months, and the months were turning into a year when we got the news of her murder.
“Her father just gave me the news. She got lured to New York with the hopes of becoming a model, and when she got off the plane, she was met by some guys who were sex traffickers.”
My father, once again, stared at me with an intense look in his eyes, his mouth hanging open with words left unsaid. Then, I recognized what I saw in his eyes. Fear. He feared losing me the same way.
He went on to tell me that Tracyee was strong and that she fought for her life, but it was a battle she didn’t win.
From that moment forward, I decided to fight too. That was the night I chose what I would major in. I always wanted to go into criminal justice, but whether I would be a lawyer or an officer was up in question. Tracyee’s death let me know I wanted to be on the line, stopping sex traffickers in their tracks.
No matter how innocent these guys look, like Mr. Sexy from earlier, my purpose in life is to hold them accountable for what happens to young, unsuspecting girls who are just looking to follow their dreams, or worse, looking for love. My main purpose in life is to stop men like him. That’s why I will meet him tomorrow. No matter how green he looks, he’s out here taking advantage of somebody’s daughter, somebody’s friend, and I will bring him to justice.
I walk around the corner and get inside of my red sports car. It’s a gift from my father when I graduated college. My father didn’t want me to come to New York, so I think the car was meant to be a bribe. But he has gotten used to me being so far away from home, and he’s here practically every month to check on me.
Speaking of the overbearing men in my life, my cell rings just as I crank up to leave. It’s my partner.
“Hello Sloane,” I answer dryly. Somehow, I already know he’s calling to argue about me not calling him earlier today.
“Hello to you. Don’t sound so happy to hear from me, or I might begin to think you consider me as a friend,” he says sarcastically.
